Fantasy
by Blue Jeans
Summary: I'm Sailor Mercury! She had told him... whether he's prepared to know it or if she's prepared to face it, that's a harder truth to bear. [AmiMotoki smut, with angst!]


**Title:** Fantasy  
**Theme:** **_sm-monthly_**_ LJ community_: **July (Minor Characters) 19th** - Erotic  
**Genre:** Angst/Drama/Dark/Smut  
**Version:** Manga  
**Rating:** NC-17/M

* * *

"I'm Sailor Mercury!" She had told him as he had looked at her drenched form in shock. The thunder had drowned out her words but it was the rain pelting down her drenched, unfamiliar form and her disheveled appearance that froze him. She repeated herself more softly when the thunder died out, but it was her torn and bloodied uniform that convinced him. He didn't realize who she was until she told him. "Motoki-san," she had murmured his name and on any other day he might have blushed at the intimacy in her voice. He had wondered how Sailor Mercury was real and how she knew him (by first name basis, even!). "I'm Mizuno Ami," she told him, the frenzy in her eyes quieting, like someone coming into the eye of the storm.

The world halted.

When he had regained his senses, he found that he had taken her hand and led her to the back to find her a towel. She had broken down half-way there, telling him how they had watched a civilian get caught in the cross-fire and taken hostage, how the poor young girl was tortured before their eyes, how the youma had gotten away despite their righteous anger, and how she couldn't stay to face the guilt (she had thrown up at even mentioning the memories). Then she had looked at him, and Motoki didn't know what to do with the woman who he had always thought of as a cute little sister as he dried away her tears and wiped clean her chin, watching her rinse away the bile from her mouth. She was different now, standing before him with her ripped blue-white suit, long legged, bruised, battered, shamed and strangely beautiful.

The rips though... they were a bit strategic, weren't they...?

The air grew heavy with a sudden tension in the silence and Motoki shifted uncomfortably from his place for all the wrong reasons (why did his eyes have to wonder?). He felt guilty for being in the back room of his store with an obviously distraught friend while ecchi thoughts made him feel slightly hotter than he wanted to. _Reika, think of Reika-_

But Sailor Mercury's, or rather, Mizuno Ami's down cast eyes landed on the last piece of his body that he wanted noticed (as he was trying to discretely shift it away from view). Then her fingers stopped him (when did the room get so small), trailing up his legs and stopping his breath. "Do you want me?" And her voice held surprise though it remained hoarse and scratchy from tears and pain and- She sounded so sexy that Motoki's brain stopped functioning.

Then Sailor Mercury, dark eyed and pale, grabbed the front of his shirt with needy fingers, pulling him down to her and kissing him with more passion than experience. He tasted the slight sour after-taste of vomit and blood, sorrow and fear, and it drowned him, her emotions. He discovered quickly that this was no sweet-kiss of a high school girl but that of a cornered woman who had seen too much. He would never have thought that the studious Mizuno Ami who blushed at the sight of him, who discretely tried on fruity lip-balm in the corner of his arcade and hid behind her books and glasses, could have ever tasted like this. Yet, she also tasted of rain, the slight salt of the sea on her skin, and the soft murmur of waves against his throat as she dragged her lips like a whisper, brushing against his Adam's apple.

"I've never done this before," she whispered hotly against his ear. And this shouldn't have turned him on, this whole situation was wrong, but he was turned on and it was not because of any emotions he had ever known before. Except that she needed him, and that the room was too small, and the black, forgotten things in the back of his mind began to take him over. And he remembered how her usual high school sailor-fuku would fall to her knees - and ah, did he ever realize her legs were that long? And her waist was small in his hands. Her bones, they were so delicate - how could she fight all those monsters? And she made little noises when he blew a hot breath against her cool skin.

It wasn't long before they both realized they (or rather he) had no clue how to undress her from that ripped armor. She had laughed softly, smiling for the first time since he had found her that night. Her lips were softer now, against his skin. They moved into a teasing curve as the armor vanished from beneath his hands, like mist upon his fingers. Her school uniform suddenly appeared, dry against her cold skin. At this, he felt the beast inside him rumble. "Mizuno Ami," he whispered, and for the first time he could say her name and believe it. She rewarded him by unzipping his pants and grasping him, pulling him loose while he tried to _gently_remove her from her clothes without giving in to the urge of ripping it all off.

And then they fucked.

Her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped tightly around his slender hips (they were stronger than they looked). It was different - raw and naked, almost too violent and almost too good. And it was not as erotic as he would have thought it would have been, but it was a lot more desperate and needy and incredibly satisfying.

It was a fantasy of his that he hadn't really ever thought would become a reality, though it was far from what he would have ever dreamed of himself. After all, most men fantasized about having sex with an actual high school girl in her sailor fuku - and Reika had even offered once. It was not soft or slow or romantic, though he would have thought a girl like Ami would have wanted it like that. And it must have hurt her, though she wouldn't show it or allow him the room to think about it.

"I'm used to it," and he interpreted _it_to mean pain, though he tried to be kind when any amount of oxygen would reach his brain through his constricted lungs. He just didn't last long enough, not with the animalistic way they came together. The way she would turn her hips just so to grind against him almost made him not believe this was her first time, though he felt and knew it was. The way her muscles splayed and rippled and moved to drive him against her, hard enough to make him grit his teeth (and perhaps rattling hers). Half-formed thoughts of gentle love-making never quite got anywhere in the fog that took over his head.

And he knew, even then, that this was not for pleasure or even because of the infatuation that he had sometimes caught in Ami's shy glances his way. It was just to forget, it was the desperation to feel something real and whole and human (and not despair). The after-taste of her pain lingered in evidence upon his body and on his tongue. And when it was over, it ended in a small explosion. The pants between the mingled sweat of their bodies drove her, a discovery for Ami that brought him soft, grim satisfaction that was not as bitter as he thought it should have been, but neither was it sweet.

"I've had so many fantasies," she told him later. Her blue-black hair, short and soft, was laid out against him. Her pink lips murmured - a bridge between her white skin and his when they were finished and spent and motionless against the floor. "I had wanted to shatter each of them," she confessed. Her voice was soft and her eyes, when he turned her face to him, were haunted as she looked at him and through him.

"I know," he told the blank expression in her eyes that wanted to stop such things as feelings and thoughts (and altogether, life itself). And he did, though he could not understand why or why the look of hopelessness in her gaze did not disturb him (or why it was so familiar). Motoki brought his arms around her. "Sometimes, I feel I'm missing a piece too, like I have forgotten something important." He smiled a little bitterly at this, "That I had lost something I had forgot ever having at all." He never told anyone this, not Reika and not his parents, not even his little sister who would watched him with worry. Yet, between him who could not remember and she who could not forget, he could be honest, just a little bit more than usual.

"Innocence?" she had suggested but it was not really a question that escaped from Ami's lips. She closed her eyes and leaned against him. "I'm sorry, about this... I know you have a girlfriend, but..."

"It's not like you brainwashed me, Ami-chan," he joked, interrupting her with a boyish smile against his lips. Ami winced at his words, though he did not understand why. "It takes two people to do something like this," he amended softly and kissed her forehead in a brotherly fashion, though they weren't really in a position to call it by such a name.

"For now," she closed her eyes. "Can you just hold me a little bit longer?"

"Yeah," he answered without reserve and let her lean on him just a little bit more.

Tomorrow, Motoki promised himself. I'll feel guilty about this, tomorrow.


End file.
